Journey into the Void (36 page)

“An attempt was made on the life of this Rigiswald while he was on the road, but he survived, and he will meet you and Alise in Krammes.”

“Tough old bird,” said Shadamehr, smiling. “An assassin would have to get up pretty early in the day to do in Rigiswald. Any other cheerful news? The world about to come to an end?”

“No, that is all,” said Quai-ghai. “Is there anything you want to tell this person?”

“Just to take care of himself,” said Shadamehr. “And we will see him in Krammes.

“Well, well,” he said to Griffith, after they had both thanked Quai-ghai and taken their leave, “it seems I am pfenningless.”

“I am so sorry, my lord,” said Griffith.

Shadamehr gave a lopsided smile. “‘Easy come, easy go,' as the Dunkargan thief said when they chopped off his head. Still, I was fond of my keep, even though it was a tad drafty in the winter.”

“What will you do?” Griffith wondered.

“I rather think I'll have to get it back.”

“But, my lord,” exclaimed Griffith, appalled. “Dagnarus is King of Vinnengael, with thousands of troops at his command, and he's also—”

“Lord of the Void, with Vrykyls and ravenous taan and Void sorcerers ready to satify his every whim? Yes, I know. But I have my health. That must count for something.”

“I don't see how you can joke about this, my lord.”

Griffith could not imagine a greater calamity. To be exiled was the worst possible fate that could befall an elf. Death was far preferable.

“It's either that or sit down and sob uncontrollably,” said Shadamehr. “And sobbing always makes my nose swell. Don't worry. I'll think of something. I always do.”

Shadamehr put his hand on the elf's shoulder. “Brace yourself, my friend. Now comes the really hard part.”

“What's that?”

“Telling Alise. You won't need to summon any winds this night, Griffith,” Shadamehr predicted. “The blast of her fury will propel us along so that we'll be lucky if we don't end up in Myanmin by morning.”

 

The blast of Alise's fury didn't quite propel them to the Nimorean coast, but it came close. She was enraged at Dagnarus and the fools of New Vinnengael for having fallen victim to his treachery, and she was equally as enraged at Shadamehr for taking the disastrous news with such apparent calm.

“My dear,” he said in response to one of her tirades, “would you feel better if I hung myself from the yardarm?”

“Yes,” she retorted. “At least you'd be doing something constructive. You spent this morning fishing.”

“Since we're stuck on a ship in the middle of the Blessed Straits, I'm not certain what constructive thing I could be doing, other than catching our dinner.”

“You could be making plans,” Alise said, with a wild gesture. “Deciding what to do, where to go—”

He leaned back against the rail, regarded her with a cool, insufferable smile.

“Damn you!” she said. Doubling her hand into a fist, she punched him in the arm.

“Ouch!” Shadamehr said, startled. “What was that for?”

“To make you stop smirking. You knew this would happen,” she said accusingly. “You knew this would happen, and you didn't tell me. You knew before we even left the keep—”

“I wish I could claim that I had foreknowledge that I was going to be exiled and stripped of my lands and titles and made a target for assassination, but I'm afraid I can't, dear heart.”

“Hah!” she said. “You chose Krammes for our destination because it is on the other side of the continent from New Vinnengael and because you have friends among the officers at the Imperial Cavalry School. Friends you can recruit to help you take back your keep…”

Shadamehr rolled up his sleeve. “Look there. Look at that mark you made. I bruise easily, you know.”

“You always said that the best-trained officers in the world came from that school,” Alise went on. “They won't be willing to follow Dagnarus, nor will the people of Krammes. We'll form an army and march on New Vinnengael. You have the Sovereign Stone. You'll have to become a Dominion Lord, of course, but I'm sure the gods will overlook the defects in your character and not fry you to a crisp during the Transfiguration—”

“What would you say the odds were, exactly?” Shadamehr interrupted. “On not frying me to a crisp.”

“Oh, seventy/thirty,” said Alise.

“Seventy which way and thirty which way?”

“Seventy they fry you.”

“Not great,” he pointed out.

“I don't honestly see how you can expect better.”

“I suppose you're right.”

“You could always do something to improve them,” Alise said.

“Do you think that's possible?”

Alise was about to make a witty retort. Looking at him closely, she changed her mind. “Shadamehr, I believe you're serious!”

“I think about it sometimes,” he said. “About Bashae, giving his life to protect the Stone. And for what? To hand it off to me. What good am I doing with it? Precisely nothing. I don't know what to do,” he added, frustrated. “Do I summon the Council, as Damra wants? Or do I take the Stone to Old Vinnengael, as Gareth told me in the vision.”

He turned away, stared moodily out to sea.

“You know I was joking, don't you?” Alise rested her hand on his arm, massaged the place where she'd hit him. “I don't think there is a man on this world who is better suited to be a Dominion Lord. The gods would be crazy not to snap you up.”

“That's the rub,” said Shadamehr. “The gods. All my life, I've been in control of my own destiny. I may have bungled things here and there, but, if I did, I had no one to blame but myself. To give myself into the hands of fate or destiny or whatever you want to call it—that's what truly frightens me, Alise.”

“I don't think it's like that, exactly,” she said.

“What do you mean?” He turned to her, interested to know what she was thinking.

Shadamehr stood silhouetted against the backdrop of rolling blue waves touched here and there by white froth. Seabirds skimmed the tips of the waves, either in search of fish or because they loved the adventure of flying through the foam. The wind ruffled his long hair. His face was tanned from the sun, and that made his eyes blue as the ocean. The laughter that usually danced in his eyes, like the sun glinting on the water, was gone. Understanding that he was opening his heart to her, laying bare his fear and his doubt, Alise pondered long before she replied, trying to explain what was for her the inexplicable.

“There is a spell that some Earth magi are taught,” she said, her words coming slowly as she went over each in her mind, to make certain it was the word she wanted. “A spell that we know as Earthen Killer. With it, we can summon into being a shambling mass of rock and order it to do our bidding. The Killer has no mind. It has no will of its own. It gives no thought to what it's doing. The magus has to keep this thing in control, for it would just as soon kill him as his enemies.”

Alise looked into Shadamehr's eyes. “The gods don't want an Earthen Killer. The gods want men and women who can think for themselves and make decisions and act on those decisions. Sometimes those decisions will be wrong, but the gods understand that. I don't believe that those who become Dominion Lords act at the direction of the gods. I believe that they act on their own. I think that what makes Dominion Lords special is that they are given the chance to look into the minds of the gods. Not far, perhaps. Just a tiny glimpse. But even that tiny glimpse helps them to judge what to do.”

“Or perhaps,” said Shadamehr thoughtfully, “Dominion Lords are given the chance to look inside themselves.”

“Maybe it's the same thing,” said Alise.

He reached out with his hand and smoothed back the red curls that blew across her face. “We can never go back to what we were, Alise,” he said.

“I know,” she replied.

“So where do we go from here?”

Smiling at him, she kissed him on the cheek. “To Krammes, my lord,” she said.

T
HE CITY OF KRAMMES HAD BEEN THEIR DESTINATION FROM THE
start of their voyage and, as they drew nearer, their expectations for this city shone as brightly as the beacon fires the orks built nightly to serve as guide for the ships sailing the treacherous shoals of the Blessed Straits. Time had been suspended while they were at sea, but now the pendulum was swinging again, the ticking resumed.

Shadamehr was eager to see if any of the Dominion Lords, warned by Ulaf, had arrived. He would at last be able to hand over to them responsibility for the Sovereign Stone. And he was also looking forward to talking with Prince Mikael, ruler of the city, and the officers of the Imperial Cavalry School, to find out what they thought of their new king, Dagnarus. Alise was looking forward to seeing Ulaf and their friends. Damra and Griffith were both hoping and dreading to hear news of their homeland. Captain Kal-Gah had cargo to sell in Krammes. The crew smacked their lips when they thought about the ale houses. Everyone was looking forward to fresh food and water and walking on dry land.

Orken vessels were generally to be found in this part of the world, so near their homeland, and so it was no surprise when the shout of “sail, ho” came from the lookouts.

An orken ship appeared on the northern horizon. The ship did not run down to meet them, but hove to and waited for them to come up to her. Once within hailing distance, the orks bellowed across the waves at one another. After some moments of this, Captain Kal-Gah, his expression
grim, ordered a boat to be lowered to carry him across to the other ship.

“I don't like this,” said Shadamehr, looking grave. “Something's wrong.”

“I hope whatever it is doesn't prevent us from going to Krammes,” Damra said. “I cannot eat another dried fig. They're starting to stick in my throat.”

The four of them hung over the rail, watching the other ship and waiting anxiously for the captain's boat to return. Griffith questioned Quai-ghai, but she knew no more than they did. The omens, she said, had been particularly good that morning. Griffith took that as a hopeful sign, until Shadamehr pointed out that good omens for orks didn't necessarily mean good omens for humans and elves.

Captain Kal-Gah returned to his vessel, coming aboard to the blast of a conch shell. He barked sharp orders that sent the crew racing to their duties, then summoned his passengers to his cabin.

“We are not going to sail into Krammes,” he announced.

“Why not?” Shadamehr asked, as the others stared bleakly at the captain. “What's wrong?”

“The city is under attack,” the captain replied.

Alise gasped. “Dagnarus! I knew it!”

“No,” said the captain, and his face split into a grin. He slapped himself on the chest. “Orks!”

“Orks are attacking Krammes?” Shadamehr repeated in dazed tones.

“The Captain of Captains is here,” said Captain Kal-Gah proudly. “And her entire fleet. They are laying siege to the city now.”

“But…why?” Alise asked, bewildered. “The orks and the Vinnengaeleans aren't at war. Are we?”

“We are now,” said Captain Kal-Gah fiercely. “The Captain has long been angry at the Vinnengaeleans for helping the Karnuans seize our mountain. The Captain summoned the fleet, and now they are laying siege to Krammes.”

“The Vinnengaeleans didn't help the Karnuans,” Alise protested indignantly. “Not willingly. Our fleet was tricked.”

“So you claim,” said Captain Kal-Gah, with a wink.

“But it's true—” Alise began.

Shadamehr seized her hand, squeezed it.

“Can you take us closer?” he asked. “So we could see the battle.”

“Yes, I can do that,” stated Kal-Gah. He brightened up. “It should be a wondrous sight. I expect that half the city is ablaze by now.”

He went back to the deck to shout orders. The four friends returned to their quarters, where they stared at each in blank dismay.

“This doesn't make any sense,” said Shadamehr thoughtfully.

“They're orks,” stated Damra, as if that explained everything. “They probably read it in this morning's fish entrails.”

“Orks may be superstitious, but they're not stupid,” said Shadamehr. “They have a reason for everything they do and, I repeat, this doesn't make sense. True, the orks are angry with the Vinnengaeleans, and they had reason to be. We were fools to let the Karnuans trick us and steal our ship. But that happened long ago. Why didn't the orks attack then? Why suddenly decide to attack Krammes now? Unless…”

He paused, then said quietly, “Maybe they do have a reason.”

“Dagnarus,” Alise said.

“Our new king,” Shadamehr agreed. “He's allied himself with the orks. Makes perfect sense, of course. He seizes control of eastern Vinnengael and the orks conquer western Vinnengael for him. They attack Krammes by sea. He has taan forces ready to move in by land.”

“I see one problem with that,” Griffith protested. “The orks have no love for Void magic.”

“They probably have no idea Dagnarus has anything to do with Void magic,” Alise pointed out. “The Vrykyl was able to fool all of you into thinking he was a human child. As Lord of the Void, Dagnarus would find it much easier to hide his alliance with the Void.”

“Alise is right,” said Shadamehr. “All Dagnarus would have to do is promise the Captain of Captains he would help her gain her sacred mountain back, and the orks would be only too happy to comply. Especially if it meant they had a chance to avenge themselves on Vinnengaeleans in the process.”

“Promises he has no intention of keeping,” said Damra.

“He might,” said Shadamehr speculatively. “Dagnarus might well be interested in taking the sacred mountain from the Karnuans. Not that he'll give it to the orks.”

“Why would he want it?” asked Alise. “The island has some strategic value, I suppose, but—”

“I know why. Because the orken portion of the Sovereign Stone is rumored to be hidden there,” said Griffith.

“Precisely,” Shadamehr replied.

“The orks would die before they told him where to find it,” said Damra.

“He's Lord of the Void,” said Griffith grimly. “He wouldn't find death much of an obstacle. He can drag the truth from their corpses.”

The four regarded each other in dismay.

“Very well. Now that we have this all figured out, what do we do to stop him?” Damra asked. “I suppose we could try to talk to this Captain of Captains, but why would she believe us?”

“Because of my honest face and stunning good looks?” said Shadamehr.

Alise snorted in derision. “What would be really helpful is a bad omen. Something that would frighten the orks into fleeing Krammes.” She cast Shadamehr a withering glance. “There, you might be useful.”

“A bad omen,” Shadamehr repeated. He looked speculatively at Griffith. “It would have to be something more spectacular than fish entrails.”

“I think that could be arranged,” said Griffith, smiling back.

“I don't like this,” said Damra frowning. “It's tampering with the works of the gods.”

“Have another fig,” said Shadamehr, holding out a basket of dried fruit.

 

Captain Kal-Gah's ship joined the orken fleet, whose ships were taking turns lobbing flaming jelly at the city of Krammes. Captain Kal-Gah had exaggerated when he said the city would be ablaze. The orks had barely begun their bombardment. The city was not yet in flames, although smoke could be seen rising from some buildings along the wharf.

The history of Krammes proved the old adage that it is an ill wind that blows nobody good. Two hundred years earlier, Krammes had been the orphan child begging for crumbs at the table of the wealthy city now known as Old Vinnengael. Krammes was located south of Vinnengael, at the mouth of the estuary that led to Lake Ildurel and the city itself. The Vinnengaeleans had built a fortress at Krammes, intended to guard that estuary. A trading post had grown up around the fortress, but it struggled to survive. Few ships bound for the lucrative markets of Old Vinnengael cared to stop at the smaller, poorer markets of Krammes.

With the fall of Old Vinnengael, the fortunes of Krammes changed almost overnight. Survivors of the disaster fled downriver to Krammes, swelling the population and bringing in what wealth they had managed to salvage. Krammes continued to grow and now, two hundred years later, it was a thriving city, second only to New Vinnengael in size and importance. Markets teemed with customers. The city was home to foreign traders. Black-skinned Nimrans could be seen rubbing shoulders with olive-skinned Dunkargans and pale-skinned Vinnengaeleans. Elven merchants traveled to Krammes via the trade route that ran south from Dainmorae. Weapons of dwarven make could often be found in the markets, brought by the orks from the dwarven lands to the east, or sometimes by dwarven traders.

The fortress that guarded the entrance to the estuary stood on a promontory overlooking the Blessed Straits. The fortress had been strengthened down through the years, for Krammes was always wary of her Karnuan neighbors, one reason for the founding of the Imperial Cavalry School. The fortress was equipped with the most recent developments in weapons technology, and the orks were angered to discover that this included the orken specialty—flaming jelly. The fortress could heave enormous boulders that would tear through sails, smash holes in the bulkheads, or fling red-hot metal that would set fire to a ship's decks and the rigging.

Fearful of the fortress's weapons, the ork ships could not sail as close to Krammes as they would have liked. Thus the orks were doing little damage to the city itself, although the siege was bound to have a devastating effect on the city's economy. So long as ork ships blockaded the harbor, no other ship dared enter.

At least, that was Captain Kal-Gah's thinking, explained to Shadamehr, as they sailed toward the battle. Shadamehr agreed with the assessment. He did not mention his suspicions that taan forces might well be on their way from the east.

“If the orks can be persuaded to retreat,” Shadamehr told his companions, “I can enter the city, reach the prince, and alert him to this danger. That's where your bad omen comes in. We have to cause the orks to retreat.”

“You'll have to make certain that Quai-ghai doesn't see me,” Griffith warned. “She would know immediately I was casting a spell, and that
would prove disastrous. Captain Kal-Gah may be your friend, Baron, but orks take their omens very seriously and if they were to discover that we were cooking one up, they would kill us.”

“You could do the spell in the cabin,” Shadamehr suggested. “Or do you have to be on deck?”

“For the spell I have in mind, so long as I have line of sight, I can cast the spell from the cabin.”

“Fortunately, the battle should keep everyone distracted,” said Shadamehr. “We'll make sure they stay that way. If anyone asks, Griffith, we'll say that you are indisposed.”

“And that I have my own cures,” Griffith emphasized hastily. “I don't want Quai-ghai down here lathering me with fish oil and banging drums.”

“Agreed. Especially about the fish oil. When do you—”

An orken cabin boy banged on the door and opened it simultaneously, causing all of them to start guiltily. Fortunately, the youngster was too excited to notice. “Captain says the battle is in sight, Baron.” The youngster grinned, hopping with excitement. “You can see flames and smoke and everything.”

“Glorious!” said Shadamehr heartily. “We'll be straight up.”

He and Alise ascended to the deck, leaving Damra and Griffith below. Damra kept watch at the door. Griffith groaned pathetically in his bed.

Shadamehr headed off Quai-ghai's offers of leeches and stewed fish heads. Fortunately, Quai-ghai was interested in watching the battle, and so she did not press her attentions on the sick elf. Shadamehr and Alise took up positions where they could see the proceedings and keep an eye on the ladder leading to their quarters.

According to Kal-Gah, the battle had reached a stalemate, with neither side able to gain the advantage over the other. One orken ship was aflame. Her crew worked frantically to douse the fire and had not yet been forced to abandon ship. Smoke rose from the dockyards of Krammes, but only a few thin trails. The orks could not sail closer to attack the city proper. The Krammerians could not sail out to drive away the orks. So they blazed away at one another, flinging great globules of flaming jelly through the air, along with anything else that seemed likely to do harm.

All the while, Shadamehr speculated, Dagnarus's forces might be drawing closer.

“Stop fidgeting!” Alise ordered him. “And quit peering down the ladder. Someone's bound to notice.”

“What's taking him so long?” Shadamehr demanded impatiently. “I—”

“Look!” Alise whispered in excitement, tugging on his sleeve.

The orken sailors posted up among the rigging “hallooed” out for the deck, several of them pointing. All eyes turned that way, diverting their attention from the battle.

The ocean this day was relatively calm, with only a light breeze that barely ruffled the flag. That made the sight they witnessed all the more strange. It seemed to Shadamehr's startled gaze as if the seawater in one small part of the ocean suddenly lifted, not in a wave, but a vast circle that had a smoky gray hue. A long, sinuous tendril of gray snaked out of the darkening heavens, twisting with deadly grace as it slid over the surface of the foaming water.

“A waterspout!” breathed Alise.

“By the gods!” said Shadamehr softly. “I've never seen one.”

To judge by their clamor, the orks had seen waterspouts before and knew them to be erratic and sometimes lethal, if they caught a ship in their spinning turbulence. A worse omen could not be imagined. Quai-ghai shouted at the top of her lungs; her bellows coinciding with the captain's orders to up anchor and set sail. His commands and the shaman's cries echoed from every orken ship in the fleet.